


Happy Dragonween

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25498102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: You are invited to a Halloween party at work.  Who would have thought it would lead.... here?
Relationships: Hanzo Shimada/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	Happy Dragonween

For as long as you had worked at Shimada Enterprises, there had been two constants.

First was that every holiday that could be celebrated with a company party was.

Next, Shimada Hanzo always had two blue-suited bodyguards at his elbows.

He was always well dressed—some would say too formally—but he did unbend from time to rarified time to dress in traditional kimono. Every once in awhile, he would dash into the elaborate glass and steel building dressed for golf. Other times he would be working late and he would be found at his desk with his suit coat draped over one of his desk chairs and his shirt sleeves most casually rolled up to his elbows with the jeweled cufflinks in a shallow carved wooden tray on his desk.

He was gorgeous no matter what he wore. His party animal brother was no slouch, no slovenly vagabond, but he was set apart from anyone else. Perhaps it was his unending attention to detail in everything from his suit seams to his stock reports. Perhaps it was the loving benefit of genes that were the result of generations of the most beautiful and brightest minds in the Japanese underground. Perhaps it was his utter conviction that he was the alpha male in the room that resulted in that rolling strut as he walked with his hands full of papers and his devices.

At any rate, every woman with a pulse watched him like a starving alley cat watches a fish.

You were no exception. You were a layer—or three—removed from his august presence, but you had made it a lifelong mission to study him. You knew that he took white tea rather than any other kind with a second-place of Earl Gray. You knew he went home at five-thirty on Thursdays to eat with his family and even if he came back later to finish working. You knew the exact florist and flowers he ordered when he broke up with his occasional girlfriends, but also their names and positions and the length of their relationships. It helped that you were generally the one doing the grunt work of ordering and arranging things—but it was an addictive job you didn’t mind doing.

Halloween was no exception to either of these fine traditions.

Genji had made all the arrangements—as usual—for the country club’s two biggest ballrooms. He filled them with fountains of wine, ice sculptures decorated with a rainbow of sushi rolls, two open bars, and a legendary DJ. Streamers, sparkling chandeliers, and balloons and smoke machines completed the look as samples of horror movies were projected on to the two huge white walls.

You were so looking forward to the party. Since you were—at best—a lowly secretarial type who reported to Hanzo’s personal assistant’s assistant, you felt blessed to even get an invitation. You had found an adorable black cat costume—a frothy black lace tutu over a corset style top with ruffled lace on the shoulder straps, lacy gloves to match the black lace mask and velvet ears. Just for amusement, you took a wide piece of novelty lace and clumsily sewed a big, round, golden sleigh bell to it. Then, to top it off, you wore a pair of silky black hose and your favorite strappy black high heeled sandals. And because it was Halloween, you let yourself have a free hand with smoky eyeshadow and the most brilliant ruby red lipstick. There were no earrings, but with this kind of get up, nothing seemed to really fit in with the outfit.

You looked amazing.

No. Really. Even your hateful mirror at home told you that you looked great and that thing had been faithfully showing off your every flaw since you were eleven years old. You blew yourself—your reflection—a kiss. A puff or two of perfume in your perfectly done hair and on your neck and you were done.

You rode with some friends from the office—a sexy mummy, a ketchup and mustard couple, and a clown—and resolved to have a great time. The party was already hopping, so you walked into an array of lasers and glittering disco lights and blasting music. Uniformed staff slid around costumes to offer little tidbits and snacks and shots of alcohol. Quite soon, you were dancing and eating and drinking with abandon.

You needed to rest for a moment—and to find another of those neon green lime shots—when you got your first real look at the two rooms. Genji was dressed all in black and neon green—a ninja from what you could guess, but no real ninja ever had such brilliant green hair and eyebrows or such a... strategically cut up costume. He sat on a leather couch in one corner of the first ballroom with collections of witches and sexy geisha and monsters all collected around him and scenes of vampires biting their victims and werewolves howling in the full moonlight danced on the screen behind him.

That was quite obviously not where you wanted to go.

So, you went to the other room. You picked up one of the green shots from a passing waiter’s tray and purred to taste the creamy, key lime pie flavor. It was delicious—not that you had any doubt since Genji was arranging the party—and you couldn’t resist a little lick of your lips to catch the frothy bits at the top of your mouth.

Then you felt a chilly tickle down your spine underneath the ribbon laces of your corset. You looked over your shoulder nervously and then you saw him. Hanzo Shimada himself was holding court not a few yards away from you. You took in his peculiar costume—a half jacket or shirt or something that covered his right arm but left his left muscular arm bare. His pants—you guessed that was what they were—were almost floppy loose right to his knees. There was a brilliant blue obi around his waist. He had a strap over his chest that held... something. Strangely, he had armored leg guards, a guard over his right shoulder, and a gourd-shaped flask. You blinked anxiously to see that he held an elaborate bow and there was an elaborately tooled leather quiver on his back with a collection of blue fletched arrows. As always, his two suited bodyguards stood just a little behind him at his elbows.

He was surrounded by vice presidents and senior directors, all talking about business. They spun around him, asking questions and nodding and sampling tumblers of amber liquid with ice balls in them. Apparently, they were talking about something important because they were all focused on him and pointing to something on their phones. At last, he glanced down and began nodding as well, breaking his hold on you.

The night progressed as smoothly and effortlessly as the drinks that were poured freely. You began finding the horror scenes projected on the screens hilarious and the food more delicious. You were laughing and dancing with the rest of the crowd and everything felt warm and safe and happy. Genji had begun his prowling rounds of the crowd, talking up the ladies in a shotgun style. He had—you noticed—disappeared to a dark corner twice with some girl and once had been gone for thirty minutes before reappearing with a smirk on his mouth.

Genji made a spectacle of himself—dropping a little ball or balloon filled with glitter or powder—and then drawing his sword. Whether or not it was real no one knew, but he began stalking through the loose groups of dancing people, waving it dramatically until someone screamed and they playfully scattered. Then he would stalk through the crowd again and scatter dancing people again.

You giggled at him as he leaped into the middle of the crowd next to you. He spun lightly on his toes and the sword swept through the air. You were about to laugh that he had missed you, but then you felt one of your shoulder straps slither down off your shoulder. He laughed at you, waving his sword with a flourish before stalking off to another group.

Grimacing, you put down your drink and turned to find Hanzo and his guards looking at you. You flushed as his eyes dipped to look at the swell of your breast exposed by the snapped strap. He froze you right there with just his stare and you could only stand there. At last, he leaned back slightly and nodded to the men just behind him.

Finally, he seemed to return his attention to you and nod. One of the guards broke away and gently took your elbow. You found yourself hustled into a back hallway and from there into a less public bathroom. The guard even walked right into the restroom with you, watching you as you struggled to tug the straps back together.

“It’s hopeless,” you muttered bitterly.

“Yes, miss,” the guard smirked. You tugged it again, but there didn’t seem to be any way that you could just tuck it in or something that didn’t look lurid or explicit. “Come with me.”

You scowled and followed the suited man. But instead of leading you back to the party, he led you through another set of almost empty hallways to some kind of small conference room. Hanzo stood there with the other guard in silence, not even smiling when you were led in.

His eyes flicked up and down your body. Instead of addressing you, though, he looked over his shoulder and asked, “And you are sure that she is compatible?”

“Yes,” murmured the guard, but you felt strange that you couldn’t tell if it was the one behind you or the one behind him that spoke. “She is the one.”

“Indeed,” he smirked as his eyes roamed over you again. He stood up and gave you a brief nod. “Well, let us go, then.”

“Go?”

He crooked his fingers at you. “Follow me.” You felt your face flush in anger, but he interrupted even that. “You cannot stay here like that, can you?”

He was right, of course, so you followed him. This place was a labyrinth of back hallways and this time it led you to a private parking lot where a long black vehicle rumbled quietly in the night. One of the guards—they looked almost identical in their never-ending blue suits—opened the back door as the other one disappeared into the shadows.

“After you, koneko,” Hanzo muttered.

You felt your knees knock, but when he brushed your back, you finally climbed in. A slow burn in your head insisted that it was his brother that ruined your costume. That it was his family’s responsibility to fix it. He sat down beside you and gestured to the driver and you felt the car rumble forward.

You tugged the costume again, trying to pull it up so that it was covering just a little more, cursing at it. That made him laugh in a low, purring way and shake his head. “It is ruined, little kitten.”

“The.... damn—.”

“Yes—Genji with his antics.” He shrugged lightly and smiled thoughtfully. “It is ruined.”

“So, where are we going?”

He shrugged and glanced out the window. Your eyes followed his and you realized that you were going out of town. Far, far out of town. “But... this isn’t—! Where are you taking me?”

“We are going home,” he nodded.

“But I live on the other side of town! And you never even asked me where I lived and—hey, what do you think you’re doing?!”

“I am taking you home—my home.” He shrugged. “As you said, I do not know where you lived.”

“Wait—what?! ‘Where I lived’?!”

He leaned over and kissed you. His hands scooped into your corset top to cup your breasts. You were immediately overwhelmed as he tugged your legs to straddle his lap. Then your breasts were in his face. You were going to say something, but he immediately tugged at your other strap. You heard another rip and felt your other strap fall off your shoulders and both your breasts were free.

He immediately began suckling on your nipples. His mouth pulled and torqued your nipples, his tongue pinching them against his lips. He even teased them with his teeth, making you whimper. His large hands pressed lightly into your corseted waist, squeezing you.

“I would have not guessed it,” he mumbled around your breasts. Nuzzling his cheek against your skin, he smirked up at you. “But I am reassured that you are... perfect.”

That gave you shivers down your spine. “Perfect for what?” you gasped.

His laughter was addictive—dark and rich and low. It made you shift restlessly and drag your core over that hard ridge in his loose pants. As soon as you did, you blushed to realize exactly what that was. As soon as the red brushed over your cheeks, he laughed and one hand dove between your thighs. There was only your hose between him and you now.

The feel of the slick hose made you grunt and pull back, but he didn’t let you go. He didn’t let you off his lap. Instead, he pulled a knife from some hidden pocket. You couldn’t breathe as you saw the flash of the metal. As fast as lightning, he pushed it between your legs, cutting the hose with a silky shush.

You jerked wildly as he rolled the knife between his fingers. “No!”

He was not paying attention, though. Instead, he pushed his hips forward and shoved his fingers between you both again. You tugged again, almost falling off his lap, but nothing stopped him as he tugged you back into your place on top of his suddenly naked cock.

“Now, pretty kitten, let us continue,” he purred. “I will not hurt you.”

You shuddered again, the drinks swirling your wits. “But I....”

“Do not worry, kitten,” he sighed. You were going to ask him something but couldn’t think for a moment as he settled you up and then down. His rigid cock pressed into your body as if it was made to please you. “You and I both will enjoy this.”

The drinks rushed your blood in your veins and you twisted slightly. His cock settled even deeper inside, brushing every nerve with fire. “I don’t want to... I don’t even know you.”

That made him laugh. “You’ve worked in my father’s company for what... weeks? Months?”

His laughter—a deep belly laugh—made his cock jerk inside you. Sparks kept flying up in your body as you tried to figure out a way to move. You tried to rise with that silly bell jingling at your neck, but as soon as you did, he grabbed your waist and slammed you back down. It was as good as thrusting, as good as anything you had ever imagined.

“What am I supposed to... to do?” you whined.

“Keep going!” he ordered harshly.

That felt like the right answer. Maybe it was the liberal alcohol, maybe it was something else, but it still felt like the right answer. So, you bucked up and down, relishing the fire rising and rising and burning your nerves to embers.

“More!” he demanded, his eyes tightly closed and his head digging back into the thick upholstery of the seat. He bucked up hard, making your head spin. It made sparks appear before your eyelids as you yelped in surprise. “More....”

He grabbed your wrists, dragging your hands over his bare skin. You were unbearably curious about the dark swirling tattoo that covered his left arm from his wrist to his shoulder. Finally, you stroked it.

That made him gasp and then growl, his body thrusting up hard into yours with a new wildness. You caught your breath—barely—and touched it again. 

He went wild, snarling like an animal. His thrusting lost all rhythm and pattern. His hands gripped you like curling paws as they tugged you down. Even harder than before, he shoved up into your body. As you held on to his shoulders, he seemed to become feral as he growled and rutted.

You were both enflamed and scared as a roar scraped out of his throat. The sound echoed and pounded in the back seat and you screamed back at him. It didn’t even make him open his eyes, he only grunted and shredded your hose off your thighs. You would have sworn he was done, that he was finished, but instead of feeling him softly retreating, something else changed.

His tattoo began to glow and you saw splinters of light flickering between his lashes. Instead of anything you expected—a sigh of relief or a softening of his body—you felt his cock grow harder, filling you more.

Sweat dripped between your breasts and heat flowered in your veins. Nothing had ever seemed to excite you like this. Perhaps it was those lime shots. Perhaps it was the oysters and seafood you had nibbled. Perhaps it was an entire evening you had simply allowed yourself to feel beautiful and desirable. Perhaps it was that the exotic man was that charismatic. Perhaps you had simply wanted to do this ever since you had first watched him.

It didn’t matter anyway—you were here and nothing seemed wrong with the sudden rush of heat and passion. You were on top of the indomitable Hanzo Shimada’s lap, his cock still buried in your body and rutting like there was no tomorrow.

You twisted, forcing every muscle in your body to tighten and then your hands to dig into the plush back seat of his limo. He groaned and his fingers dug into your thighs before he grabbed your waist. When he opened his eyes, they burned with blue flames as they stared into yours. There was another breathless moment that made you panic breathlessly. You flailed, the bell ringing and your breasts bouncing.

Then he grabbed you again with meaty hands around your arms. “More,” he growled in some unearthly way. “You are not done yet.”

If the car hadn’t rumbled and stopped, you might have been there until the end of time. Instead, you were jolted out of your passionate embrace enough that you gave a squeak and looked wildly around. Hanzo snorted arrogantly and patted your hip with a possessive hand before he whispered, “We are home pet.”

You didn’t know what to say, and you scrambled with your clothing. He merely pushed you up off his cock and tucked his clothing back into place. You frowned with a dark blush as a blue-suited man—you would have sworn you had left both his bodyguards behind—opened the car door.

“Welcome home, sir,” the blue suit murmured.

Hanzo climbed out and stood. “Thank you.” Casually, he reached in and snagged hold of your silly collar. “I will want dinner and drinks delivered to my quarters.”

“Of course, sir.” 

Quite how he managed to get you cradled in his arms and began strolling down the hallways, you were uncertain. In fact, you were more embarrassed than anything since he was simply walking through the entire building without a care. You were quite obviously naked—your breasts bouncing and your hose in mere shreds around your hips and legs. No one seemed concerned in the least, either—merely bowing down and smiling as he walked through.

He paused briefly at a set of double doors and that blue-suited man was waiting on him with a smile. A collection of servants stood there with a collection of covered platters, folded fabric over their arms, and decorated bottles, all of them with their eyes down to the floor. The man opened the heavy doors, allowing Hanzo through and then following behind him.

He spoke to none of them specifically, as if he assumed that they would know who he was addressing. “Take dinner into my sitting room. The clothing into the guest suite.” There were giggles behind him. “I will take her to my room.”

He allowed no one to so much as speak to you as the blue light flickered in his eyes and along his arm. He simply walked through the numerous rooms and settled you on a massive bed. “Hold on, pet.”

He left you there, going back to the hallway. Women filtered in, nonplussed as they began unfolding the fabrics to show you three silky caftans with blue silken embroidery from the keyhole necklines to the hems. You were ushered into the bathroom and they drew out soap and cloths with murmured giggles and sighs. When you tried to speak to them, they ignored you, pulling out fans to smile behind or simply nodding and giggling at each other.

You protested as one of them wet a washcloth and another began unlacing your corset. As usual, they said nothing to you. Instead, one of them made a tutting noise and wagged her finger at you. You yelped again, backing away, shouting, “Hey—a little privacy here!”

That made a bunch of them gasp and one ran out of the bathroom. She came back with that bodyguard in tow. The huge man needed merely to flex in that ridiculously well-tailored suit and you sat back down. Again, there were polite little flower petal giggles as they undressed you and began peeling off your ruined costume. It vanished somewhere—one of the bobbing maids leaving—as they began nodding towards each other. One of them had a large china bowl with perfumed water and quite calmly washed you all over. They giggled as you were washed and dried and pulled a faintly pink caftan with thick blue embroidery all down the arms. One of them—they were all so similarly dressed that it was hard to tell who was coming and who was leaving—had perfume bottle and she squeezed the little tasseled pouf to spritz you with more of the light perfume. Another dabbed your lips with a gloss that tasted like vanilla and another pulled a comb through your hair.

At last, they left you clad only in the pink caftan on the bed.

Hanzo returned in a loose sort of traditional pants that looked like they were made from shadows. His hair brushed down his back and he wore no jewelry or decoration other than his tattoo as it glowed. He grinned at you, his smile brilliantly white in the dim light of the room. You laid back on the bed, satisfied that he had returned. Silently, he nodded again.

You thought you would be able to enjoy his attention, but then the doorway was filled with the two bodyguards. He waved over his shoulder and the two men came in. You mewled and scrambled backward on the bed. They simply stood on each side of him and then, at his signal, went to both sides of the bed.

“Now, pet, do not be... overly alarmed,” he murmured. “I have sent the servants away.”

You glanced nervously among the three men and shook your head. “Not a chance—.”

“You do speak,” he chuckled. The glowing flamed up as he strolled lightly to the bed. “No, be a good pet.”

Before you could say anything, he peeled off the loose pants and climbed up on the bed. Brushing aside the caftan, he settled between your thighs with his cock raging almost against his belly. He slid inside you again, rocking firmly.

You whimpered and then wailed as the two men stood over you both. “This isn’t a peep show!”

That made him laugh. The two guards said nothing, just stood there over you both as he kept up his thrusts that curled your toes. You clawed his skin, but that only made his eyes flare up and his snapping hips thrust even harder. His lips clamped down on yours, swallowing your cries and protests.

Something slid inside you. No, it was something inside you, a new feeling that defied description but made you hungrier for more. You bit down on his muscular shoulder, scratched at his back, pumped upwards to him in that especially hungry feeling that had brought you to him in the first place. It felt like... destiny fulfilled.

And then, you managed to glance up, to see the guards’ bodies start to flicker and then to flame as if Hanzo’s light had caught them on fire. You wailed again, curling around him and gripping him with your thighs as they seemed to burn.

The suits did not burn like fabric, though. They seemed to... to boil, to blister-like skin. But it wasn’t skin, it was too regular and geometric to be blisters or burns. They were scales—truly the suits were changing into scales—as the dark ties became splashes of dark belly scales. Their cuffs became thick tufts of fur and their dark hair flared around their heads.

Hanzo did not let your curiosity stray for a moment more. He bit you back and you felt the dark bruise bloom on your skin. “You will pay attention to me, pet.”

“They are burning!” you wailed.

He laughed and curled above you to nibble your breasts. “No, pet. You are merely seeing them truly for the first time.” Whatever it was inside you rumbled in your belly and seemed to draw upwards towards him. “They have selected you to be my mate.”

“Your mate?!”

“See them as they are, pet,” he grinned above you. Your eyes blinked in the light as they grew from flaming to incinerating to the entire bed becoming an inferno. Your eyes were blinded as the blue flames encircled the bed like you were in the middle of a flame cocoon. Finally, your eyes adjusted, you saw the thick bodies circling you both on the bed. “See them as they are.”

They were... Well, it was impossible to say, but they looked like great dragons flying frantically around and around the bed. There was heat boiling off of them, but also whipping winds as they wound in a tighter and tighter coil and glowed with impossible blue fire.

Hanzo slammed harder into you, driving your head against a snake-like layer. “You will say nothing of this. They have chosen you to bear the Shimada heir. To carry within your body new dragons—dragons of the East and the West.”

You gasped and felt that push inside you settle and pour ice and fire into you. You were hungry—hungry for completion, for pleasure. You were certain nothing else would feel like this as he kept his rhythmic thrusting. And then the stars burst in you again, driving you off the edge and into oblivion as he came again and collapsed on top of you.

And then the fire went out. The whole room was dark and filled with the scent of ozone and old mossy forests. He was panting like you, but otherwise, the whole suite was completely silent. You felt a shifting in you as if you were blossoming into something new. There was no question that the dragons knew that you were right for this, that you were made for this and you would fulfill that destiny. If you weren’t pregnant this instant, you would be very, very soon.

Then, you felt complete.


End file.
